Empire Ascendant
by Vicent1995
Summary: "You claim yourself virtuous, I claim myself wicked." "I call myself wicked because if you represent the standard of paragons, I prefer monsters." "Why? Because they're more human when compared to you. Your humanity was something you forfeited long ago."
1. Chapter 1

**I'M BACK!  
><strong>  
><strong>Let me see, to begin with the typical procedure: 95% of the materials used in this fic belong to C. Paolini. He's welcome to keep them.<strong>

**What's the issue I have with IC?**

IT'S. HORRIBLE.

**Horrible in the sense that the untrained, like I once was, can think it's good but once you get a little more experience and more material you start to see flaws, and I mean FLAWS with capital letters. Just watch Saphira's POVs. Hell, Brisingr altogether it's a proof of his flaws. And no, it's not just: he's learning. If anything he got worse as time passed by. Eragon has gone downhill to the king of Mary sue's of the Sociopath House. And don't get me started with his prose!  
>So I thought, after re-reading Inheritance, what would happen if I put in this world one ofmy work in progress' characters? <strong>

**So yeah, this is in truth a cross-over, or a proto-cross-over, or whatever it's supposed to be.  
>Note that I'm doing this mostly for kicks so I'm not as thorough on my proof-reading. The starting scene takes place on my 1st book's 3rd act, and yes, it's a bit of an AU. He is going to land on the scene I hated most (or second, perhaps) of the whole Cycle.<strong>

**Chapter 1.- The Scion.**

Felix held his breath in awe. Not only he was walking across the hallowed halls of the Atlantid, the jewel of the First Human Empire. He was in front of one of the wonders that emblazoned the golden era that represented the legacy of the First Empire.

The cartograph and the infinite crossroads.

Back in the centuries prior to its dethroning, his ancestor Ohrian Harkund, secluded himself on the city island. During the last millenia of his unnaturally long rule he commisioned, oversaw and produced many works. None... well, perhaps one came to mind... No. Okay, no, no doubt, this was the most important one of them all.

This one went beyond everything: the pharos of mars, capable to allow any vessel the speed to cross the whole galaxy in one day was nothing to it; the mythic Library of Lemuria couldn't hold a candle to the knwoledge it could grant.

It was the only gate-the only stable one anyways-to the rest of the multiverse. The only one the most ingenous and visionary sorceror could make. The only one ever made during this universe's lifetime.

How it worked was a mystery nobody fully unterstood. In appearence this was simply a fountain were countless spots of light danced and a leather book floated amidst them. Felix wanted to read that book, he wanted to unearth its secrets. The curiosity was just too much. His 'companion' seemed interested too, for she kicked him forward and ordered him to get the book. Okay, he was-willingy-a prisoner, but that didn't make him a human punchbag!

As he approached the fountain, the book went forward and opened itself. Albeit it didn't seem too thick, Felix could say thousands of pages turn, all of them filled with names. When it stopped he read the first lines, stumbling with his poor Old Atlantion.

...Alagäesia" He finished.

One of the many dots lurched forward and blasted, engulfing him in a blinding light.

Next thing he saw was the inside of a tent. The equipment was rustic, primitive. Something had gone wrong, really wrong. And him, as much of an idiot he was, had forgotten to read the instruction's part where it explained to come back. If Sigmar heard this he would start: Lucius Cornelius Sulla Felix Harkund blablablabla And putting a lot of emphasis on the whole name because he knew how much chargrin produced on Felix the whole 'I was named after a roman dictator thingy'.

Felix sighed, he couldn't do nothing against it, and he had it comming. First off he needed to get out and find out where the hell he was.

"Durcan, are you there?" Felix waited one, two, three seconds. He couldn't be..." Durcan were your audition routines erased?"

"I hear you, you dolt." Grumbled his power armor's AI. "Way to go genius, getting lost in a different universe."

And Felix had to wonder why the hell there were so few AIs in the army.

"Can you find me any communications network in the surrounding area?"  
>"I have checked already: nothing. No telephone, no internet, not even radio. What I could collect was a series of energetic disruptions-magic based ones."<p>

Felix nodded. First off, he needed to get out of the tent. Last thing he wanted was whoever lived here make a ruckus.

As he left the tent, the Scion of the Harkund found a scene that made his blood boil.

There, a man with a strange physionomy, similar to the elfs of folklore, was there scolding a girl. At first glance one could think nothing was wrong, but the pitch and the words used (you killed him, thanks to you he's dead, your fault) made him wary. Tactfully Felix approached the man's consciousness while cloaking his , emulating the teachings of Khaleel.  
>By god, he wanted to punch that prick. So, a girl, a two years old whom HE cursed and doomed to feel horrible pain and despair, was to blame about the death of a soldier by a trap! By Yuran! Let alone the fact that not even the Harkunds' would never force nobody so young to fight (at best one started training at five and then one didn't start seeing real combat until eight or ten), she was a non-combatant! That twat was more to be blamed than her, for lack of care!<p>

He kept, puffing himself with pride at his supposed 'matureness' and spat such an amount of vile and damnation upon the girl Felix couldn't end up resisting it.

Felix went onwards and tapped the young man in the shoulder. He turned and gave Felix a slightly annoyed look. By then Felix's bionic right arm was nearly on the man's face.

PLAM! With a swift punch, as strong as the servos could allow, Felix sent the man flying backwards.

'Oh crap... I really shouldn't have done that,' thought Felix.

"Way to go, you dolt" Said Durcan. "Talk about happy trigger.

**That's it for now. Suffice to say, I know Elva's case: she didn't want the curse to be removed blablabla. Look it right, Eragon's second attempt to supress the curse only MIGHT eliminate the curse and place a yet higher toll on her. Eragon never did her a favor altering the curse, she still felt horrible pain. And what wanted Eragon to do with her? Bring her to the eye of the storm, where she could feel even more pain. When the Elven NPC (can't even remember his name, he was that irrelevant to the story) dies he makes all that ruckus with her just because... she's to blame. That's it, that's Eragon's reasoning. He wasn't to blame, he was just next to him. Arya or Angela weren't to blame, after all they were just ancient and powerful sorceresses. Elva is to blame! Hell, even if we take into account her power she wouldn't do squat because her power of prescience derives from persons intent! A trap has no will on its own!  
>Yes, that got me flaming a lot, and it was one of the many details of Eragon that horrified me.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, we're now set. Just want to point one thing: in this fic, Eragon's attempt to go below Dras Leona fails and the party runs. Just saying that. Today, Roran and the Varden leaders!**

**Another detail of the series that really infuriated my was how arrogant was Paolini towards warfare. Why do I say that? According to him, leaders don't need experience nor knowledge, just luck. Warriors, according to him, don't win because the have more skills or experience or technique, they win because they strike first. And so on. None of the battles that happen in the book are well done. In all of them the vardens should have been defeated because they make huge mistakes and they only win because...well...because they win, that's it, there's no true reason for their victories. Aroughs was one of the worst offenders. ****Roran's stunt shouldn't have worked. The only way you could pull that is having all the citizens of the city blindfolded and deaf. Also, he should have died once the gates were open because the wave from the otherside- a dam, a big dam- ought to be strong enough as to destroy all their barges, reallistically speaking.**

**And puting archers in a meelee... well, I do that when playing Medieval Total War but mostly because I use the english so most of my CC infantry is in truth arrow-fodder and I pull the We have reserves trope. The vardens are on the losing stick, numerically speaking so they shouldn't be doing that.**

**Chapter 2. The rebellion.**

"You had to do it," Durcan snarked to his heart's content."You had to punch the first dude you bumped with in and empty a can of petrol and then lit the fellow on fire."  
><em>Hey, I didn't do that! <em>Thought Felix. The message went through his neuralgic links and reached the machine in his armor. His answer was:

"You wanted to do it, don't lie to me. You soldiers, either low or highborn only think to kill and maim and burn and get skulls for the skull throne in the gruesomest way possible."

_Sure. _Was all Felix chose to let the matter die. He would-no, he should- apologize later for his actions. Apparently this Eragon was an important figure. By the way the 'Vardens' treated him, Eragon was like Alagesia's-or whatever way it was spelled- version of Gedris. His cousin... the so-called Chosen One, the one fated to reunify the galaxy and rebuild the empire. Felix frowned at that thought, for he knew how his cousin was. Perhaps Eragon might be talented but seeing his streak of chosen ones Felix had no doubt something would be wrong.

Felix sat in the tent the Vardens had given him after some 'pleasantry' with the upper ups. He kept thinking about the campaign against the 'Evil Tyrannical Empire and King Galbatorix'.

This troubled Felix to great extent. Not the fact that the Empire was ruled by a king. This was simple semantic and the Harkund Empire was an offender there too-them being ruled by a Patriarch/Matriarch. It was that, as a Scion, as a prince and possible heir, of an Empire... he was really rooting for the empire. And none of the things they said really fazed Felix.

Raising taxes? How the hell do you thing a military is build? Or worse, how the hell do you thing a proper healthcare and education system is build? The reasoning of just rebelling was either plain idiotic or in line with the most die-hard tories that wanted the bloody poll tax.

Killing the dragons and destroying the previous world order? Hell, Ohrian the first, founder of the Harkund Dynasty and the empire, anhilated hundreds of species. Granted, he kept the gene-pool and rebuild them but that still counted for xenocide. As for the latter... well, you must destroy a few empires if you want to conquer the whole galaxy.

The only thing that made Felix feel a sting of empathy for the Varden was the Empire's practice of brainwashing. While the Harkunds did it, brainwashing was a practice generally frowned upon.

As Felix saw things now, the Empire was an authoritarian regime surrounded on the very mild side of the concept. That in itself was by no means enough reason to plunge the whole land into disarray. He needed, though, to learn more to properly form his opinion. He had barely scratched the surface and taking prejudice was the last thing he should do. _The path cannot be seen via blowing candles._

First thing first. He should pray. He hadn't done that since his imprisonment, a week ago. Prayer always cleared his mind. It would do good to him.

"If I have a privacy," Felix said loudly. "Don't you think, master Bloodgarm?"

The wolf-elf entered the tent and drowned it with the perfume of his spell. An interesting specimen, sure enough. Not the most exotic he had ever seen true enough, but the iron-born weren't what you'd call natural. Still... it was unsettling. Felix hadn't been too keen on plastic surgery, let alone such drastic transfiguration. Such a drive to change your body at a single whim struck Felix as vain and narcissistic, but then again, he was a stuck-up pig-headed individual according to his friends.

Silence surrounded them. The elve glared at him with expectation, awaiting to hear Felix reason to be here. He didn't buy the lies Felix told. Neither did Nasuada and the ones that truly held the power here. Despite their sheer incompetence in all the other aspects of warfare the Vardens seemed to understand the meaning of 'secrecy' even if they weren't capable to apply it to themselves.

Felix turned, he just felt uneasy at his stare, anyone's for that matter. Eye contact had always been a torture for him.

"You only need to know something: I'm a drifter from far away."  
>"There's no seas near here and you surely were quite dry when we found you." Pointed the elf.<p>

"There's a great ocean surrounding us right now, master Bloodgarm. A sea that reaches the whole world, all of them."Rebutted Felix. "A sea were sailor and vessel are both the same."

With that said, Felix decided it was best to leave the tent, less Bloodgarm insisted further and somehow managed to extract something he shouldn't know. He might not hold prejudice against them but he shouldn't consider them his friends yet.

* * *

><p><strong>After nightfall<strong>

Felix had been recalled to the Varden's command tent. There was Nasuada's inner council plus several nobles, Eragon and his cousin and many more. The only elves were princess Arya and Bloodgarm. And then there was a whole dwarven court led by king Orik.

One thing that struck Felix was how shoddily they prepared their war. The empire outnumbered them yet their best strategy consisted to take over each city on the map. To anyone with a modicum of military experience or an average knowledge of medieval warfare, this was clearly a recipe for disaster.

"If you excuse my intrusion." Felix began. "I think it would be in the best of your interests to retreat from this siege."

Everyone in the room looked him aghast. Did he say something funny?  
>Somoene broke the silence, the cousin, Rorin or something like that. He just didn't hope to retain more than two or three names-which it was quite a feat for someone with such a horrible facial memory.<p>

"And give Galbatorix's lapdogs the change to bite us back?"  
>"And give the Varden a fighting chance in this war." Retorted Felix. "I've heard what you all say: the moment Galbatorix leaves his dark palace you're all dead. Then go straight to his palace and get him inside, don't waste time in cities that won't mean the outright downfall of the Empire."<p>

They didn't understand. Felix saw it. Nasuade praised his loquacity and intellect yet didn't flinch an inch from her position. Pretty much the same could be said about the rest, though Eragon and the elves response was a bit more... blunt, to put it lightly.

"We must keep attacking the defenses of Dras Leona, otherwise the enemy garrison will attack us"  
>Felix needed to point that, had the garrison been big enough to attack them, they would have done so previously. From what he had gathered, the empire suffered a major defeat. Being pushed from two fronts and then having already lost several of their cities-and the remaining major settlements cut or isolated by the geography- their offensive power was virtually non-existent.<p>

"You bloodied the Empire in Surda." Felix exposed. "You took Finster and that other city who's name I cannot remember. Each of those supposed substancial loses to the empire, specially the two later, since they did lose major logistical positions."Felix abstained from mentioning there wasn't need for the latter two."The empire won't attack you."He reassured again.

They didn't undestand, Felix repeated to himself. They had allowed their emotions to take over the campaign: Eragon and Roran were blinded by what Felix believed to be an unhealthy desire of vengeance, so were the dwarves. Nasuada was dazzled in her airs of grandeur (and who wouldn't be dazzled at the prospect of being hailed as a liberator?). The elves, he didn't know nor was keen if he wanted to know. The only one to have a modicum of common sense was Orrin, but the poor man had started to heavily abuse the drink. Or so said Lurcan's neuro-scans. The buggers weren't as precise as an actual mental-scrying but got the job done in a more discreet way.

Roran's eyes were riveted in Felix now. That bloodthirsty man was surely imagining in a way of killing him. He had seen that kind of stare but only on Koljanta, massive beasts of war and universally considered as the most barbarous species in the galaxy-and damn proud they were about this. Digressing aside, he was pretty sure he was really angry. Just as his tirade about the many wrongdoings the Empire had committed and how a proper king should be. While everyone else praised Roran's wit and passion, Felix mused on his words as he tapped the gruesome scar that marked his face's left side from jaw to lip. Those of a berserk awaiting for carnage.

He didn't like what he was seeing. What he disliked more was the fact that every sodding wizard in the camp had tried to read his mind twice. Thrice in the case of the elves and Eragon. Okay, he was sounding hypocritical. But he at least had the meager excuse that he didn't have enough time to ask all the members of the court-he knew this wasn't a court but he wasn't going to dub them that way-and form an opinion of them

_I don't fit here, I'm sorry to say but I'm not going to get along with them. _

Felix mused in silence nodding politely at the Vardens who opened their inner-most circle of confidence to a stranger because... some reason, he wasn't in a hurry to find out the why. And again, they insisted in his origins and how and why he came to the camp-and punched Eragon. Felix didn't want to answer. Aside from his personal reservations, they were more interested in finding some item of power, either by influencing him or by getting to appeal to the rulers. He knew his uncle Vurian wouldn't help them, but still... he felt some weird uneasiness. And it wasn't from the little girl, Eva or something like that, as it happened to the rest of the guests. It was curious. They treated her with a tad of fear, hate and distaste. Why, he wondered.

Why? Those seemed to pile up at an increasing speed.

King Orrin approached him, intent on asking a question everybody was dying to make.

"Certainly it's not proper of a gentleman to make such a question but one has to admit that your-"  
>"That my arm isn't what you would call fleshy?" Felix chuckled tired. "Your majesty, if you can somehow free me from this meeting I will gladly tell you."<p>

_I need to leave, go somewhere else and clear my mind._


End file.
